A Challenge
by TheBigEscape
Summary: "Alright, then!" she all but shouted at him and started unbuttoning her blouse. He looked at her, a challenge in his eyes. She realized he didn't think she was going to go through with it. / Read to find out why Felicity feels the need to undress in front of Oliver. RATING CHANGED TO M BECAUSE OF 2nd CHAPTER – 1st CHAPTER STILL SAFE TO READ WITH T RATING
1. A Challenge

_My first Arrow fanfic – I hope I did these great characters justice. Let me know what you think! _

_I set this somewhere at the beginning of season 2. Felicity is already Oliver's Executive Assistant, but Sara is not in the picture yet._

_Don't own anything._

* * *

A Challenge

It had been one of those days – one of those days which start out with burning your tongue on coffee in the morning and just get worse from there. She had felt both overwhelmed and bored out of her mind at Queen Consolidated. It sounded like a paradox, but it was her day-to-day life now. She wasn't cut out to be an Executive Assistant and it surely was not what she had gone to university for. Still, she couldn't say no to Oliver Queen and that was really at the root of all of her problems.

Felicity saw the benefits of being part of both of his lives and helping him to manage the demands of these competing worlds. In fact, she was confident enough to believe that he wouldn't be able to do it without her help, but that didn't mean she had to like it. A snide remark from Isabel Rochev, a disgruntled Head of Finance who hadn't gotten his report on time and a less-than tasty lunch had given her the rest. Her mood was really, _really_ bad.

She took a deep breath before making her way down the stairs to the lair. As usual, she had come here directly after work, planning to get some takeout later on. Felicity couldn't see him yet, but judging from the tell-tale sounds in the basement, Oliver was climbing the salmon ladder, which annoyed her. Not only did it remind her that he often sneaked out of the office in the afternoon while she had to stick around to pick up the slack and console people with the empty promise of him being available the next day, she also had to face him shirtless.

And again a paradox: while she loved seeing him without his shirt, working out – which woman wouldn't? – this minimized her productivity. Considerably. She had hoped to check her alerts, do some research on those weapons smugglers they were after at the moment, and finally get home a bit earlier. She hadn't done laundry in ages and was down to her last pair of underwear. So yeah, she really needed to get home at a decent hour. Maybe she'd even be able to take a bath and catch more than 5 hours of sleep? A girl can dream…

She went straight to her computers, not daring to look at Oliver lest she should lose all motivation to work and just keep watching him, her mind wandering off… She shouted a "hey" in his general direction, acknowledged his return of the greeting, and set to work. However, just a minute later, she heard him drop from the top of the ladder to the floor, from where he seemed to make his way over to her. Before she knew it, his sweaty torso had moved into her line of sight and she could no longer ignore him. Trailing her eyes up to his face (which, admittedly, took a bit longer than was necessary), she realized he was talking to her.

"Sorry, what did you just say?" she smiled at him, "Long day…". Oliver smiled back at her, sadly. He knew better than anyone what toll a double life could have on a person, and he was sorry she had to make that same experience. She looked very tired indeed. Then again, it was her choice and he respected it. "I said that Digg was here earlier, letting me know that the weapons deal is going down tomorrow. His source told him. What we don't know is where it's going to take place."

"I'm on it. Might already have a lead on the location as well," she assured him, referring to something that had been flagged up in her alerts. He knew that if anyone was going to find out what they needed to know to stop this deal from going down, it was his own personal IT genius. "Just give me 10 minutes."

"Great, maybe we can even call it an early night," he sighed. He could use some sleep for a change. Felicity was already back to work, seemingly absorbing information from three screens at the same time. Leaving her to what she did best, he turned on his heel to do what he did best: Hit stuff. Hard.

After an exhausting half-hour of hitting the dummy, he grabbed a towel and made his way back over to Felicity's desk, to check up on her progress. She was looking at her screens but not moving, not typing, not blinking, just staring at the screens. "Felicity?" Oliver looked at her, wondering whether she was just overly tired or daydreaming. She didn't react.

"Felicity!" he called her again, this time more loudly. Jolting out of her reverie, the woman inexplicably blushed. If he knew what she had been daydreaming about, he wouldn't find her crimson cheeks so inexplicable. He'd probably blush right along with her. "Have you found the location for tomorrow?"

"Um… no, not quite. Sorry." She cleared her throat, her eyes inadvertently wandering down his glorious upper body and back up again. Oliver wasn't feeling very patient today, as he'd already seen himself getting a solid 8 hours of sleep. "What's the holdup?" He had said it more harshly than intended and immediately regretted his tone. However, before he got a chance to apologise, Felicity had already gotten up from her swivel chair and was facing him. She was in his personal space. His naked-torso, sweaty, personal space.

"For goodness sake, Oliver, just put a shirt on and I will get some work done here!" She had involuntarily raised her voice and was looking at him now, defiance in her eyes. "But I'm not finished working out yet." He said as if this could truly be the only reason for him to put his shirt back on. "Seriously," she was aghast at this display of naiveté. He had no idea what the sight of him did to her.

"Men all around the world wear shirts in gyms. Why can't you do the same? Instead I have to look at your… half-naked body, _constantly._" She was incredibly thankful that she was so tired that her mouth couldn't keep up with her mind. This lag had stopped her from filling in any of those adjectives that would usually spring to mind, ranging from hot to irresistible with detours via sexy and sculptured.

"Oh please, shirtless men are everywhere, don't tell me you are bothered by this! Nothing you haven't seen before!" He was on the defensive now, and she knew that he would fight his corner, just because. It would be easier for him to just put a shirt on and be done with the discussion, but they were both feeling quarrelsome, neither of them ready to back down.

"That's not the point! I'm sure you've seen your share of women in underwear. More than I care to imagine, actually, considering how many women you've been with just since you've been back from the island and the tabloids say that you've turned your back on your womanizing ways, or whatever, so I can only imagine what it was like _before_, and this is not really relevant at all, I just meant to say that I'm not walking around down here half-naked, even though I might be more comfortable, because I'm sure you'd consider that a distraction as well." She turned red and just hoped that she had rambled quickly enough for him not to be able to fully process everything that was said.

All he replied was, "Well, you're welcome to," trying to keep his voice calm. He didn't like it when Felicity brought up his past with women – it wasn't something he was proud of and for some reason it bothered him in particular to hear from Felicity herself that she had a low opinion of him in this respect. Felicity, however, was puzzled. "Welcome to what?"

His face was stoic and didn't betray any feelings. Only his jaw line seemed a bit more tense than usual. "Work down here in whatever state of dress or undress you feel most comfortable in." He had called her bluff. Damn. Why hadn't he simply put a shirt on! He was turning this into a thing, making both of them uncomfortable without either of them being able to admit to it or to back down, because that would mean letting the other win. And they could not have that, now could they. He looked at her, a challenge in his eyes.

She realized he didn't think she was going to go through with it. How come he hadn't realized by now that she did love herself a challenge? They held each other's gaze. "Alright, then!" she all but shouted at him and stepped out of her high heels. He could be so infuriating sometimes! His eyes followed her line of sight, which was now a few inches lower than before. Sometimes he forgot how much smaller than him she was – something he had always thought quite sexy. He slightly clenched his jaw, which would hopefully go unnoticed by Felicity. He had to keep his poker face on.

It did indeed go unnoticed by Felicity, as she was busy trying to make a point. After a short moment's hesitation, she started to work her way through the buttons of her blouse. He didn't flinch or look down at her body when she slid the garment off her shoulders and threw it on the floor, with a vengeance. Next was the tank top she had been wearing underneath her slightly see-through blouse. The moment it took for her to pull off her top over her head, which broke her line of sight to Oliver, she started to panic. This was a really, _really_ bad idea. But then, locking her gaze with his again, she realized that he was weirdly calming her down. She was not a quitter. She would stand up to him, no matter what.

She moved her hands to her waist, where she blindly found the zipper of her skirt, and undid it. Letting it slide down to the floor, she fought the strong urge to wrap her arms around herself, trying to cover up her exposed skin. However, this would defy the whole purpose of this exercise. She had to pretend as convincingly as possible that she was actually comfortable walking around like this. In front of him. Her heart was racing at 160 beats per minute and oh boy did she regret not getting around to doing laundry for two weeks. She was wearing green boxer briefs with yellow stars on them. She had thought them cute when she bought them, some time ago. Now she was just embarrassed. Luckily, her bra was a sexier number in black lace. "At least something," she thought.

To deflect from her discomfort, she defiantly asked, "Happy now?" His eyes were unreadable – was it just her or were they darker than usual? "I'm happy if you're happy." His voice also sounded deeper than usual. With this non-committal answer, he turned around and walked back over to the salmon ladder and started working out again. He would not look at her. Not look. Not… green was his favorite color. He wondered if she knew. His eyes wandered to his leather outfit in the glass case. Chances were, she probably did.

Felicity, now sitting back at her desk, getting even less work done than before, heard a loud thump shortly thereafter. "Oliver, are you okay?" She hurried over to him and knelt beside where he lay on the mat. He'd fallen off the bar – which was basically unheard of. He propped his upper body up on his elbows, trying to breathe evenly and not let on how much her state of undress was getting to him.

This was not working, considering he was on perfect eye level now with her breasts, cupped in an enticing black lace bra. If he just reached out with his hand… Her skin looked so soft and would feel heavenly to touch, he just knew it. And it was not like this was the first time he was wondering about what it would feel like to touch her, to wrap her body up in his arms, to run his hands through her silken hair. He forced this train of thought back into his subconscious. "Um…, I guess my arms are tired. Too much workout today." Oliver prayed to god that this excuse didn't sound as threadbare to her as it did to him at the moment of utterance.

Worst. Excuse. Ever. Oliver's arms never got tired. She'd seen him do many more exercises without even a hint of exhaustion. "Oh, alright then." Felicity stood up quickly, walking back to her desk, letting a triumphant smile spread across her lips, which she had barely managed to suppress while he could see her face. Aware that his eyes were probably following her retreating form, she swayed her hips a tiny bit more than was usually her habit. She felt like she was gaining the upper hand in this scenario. Actually, although she would never admit to it, she was starting to have a bit of fun playing with him. Just a little bit.

Forcing herself to really concentrate on the task at hand – which, under normal circumstances, she could've finished three times over by now –, Felicity found the location for the arms deal the day after. Relieved that her work for the night was done, she turned her attention back to Oliver, who had moved on to target practice by now, getting his tennis balls ready. "Concentrate, Oliver!" he told himself. However, it was pretty much hopeless. All the dreams he had had about her (not exactly few) over the last months had conspired to assault his mind at once, mixing with those fantasies he indulged in consciously during his weaker moments.

Needless to say, his practice was a disaster. Only one out of 6 balls was impaled on the wall with an arrow. And that one was probably just luck. Felicity, who had been watching him, fascinated by the muscles in his back and shoulders tensing and easing with every released arrow, had to suppress a chuckle and slowly walked over to where he was standing with his back to her. Her feet barely made a sound on the floor. "It would seem you're not exactly at the top of your game tonight," she said, her body so close to his that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. With her eyes, she traced a single drop of sweat make its way from his hairline down his spine to the small of his back.

He must've been very deep in thoughts, because he positively jumped when she uttered these words. Did she really just sneak up on the Arrow? This was a night of firsts. He took two deep breaths, then started to slowly turn around on the spot, keeping the distance between them intimate. His left hand was still holding onto his bow, his right hand was balled into a fist at this side. He suppressed a groan that was roaring in his throat, but wasn't sure he had managed to. Had she heard it?

Not trusting himself to refrain from reaching for her in this moment of weakness, he had to get out of here, quickly, with whatever dignity he had left. He had long since decided that it was for the best like this, but on days like these it got incredibly hard to fight against his feelings, his instincts. If he let his hand run over her soft skin now, from her curvy hips to her small waist, there would be no going back, and he was fairly convinced that she wouldn't put a stop to it either. Knowing that it was just his fear of getting her hurt holding him back and that otherwise he could wake up tomorrow morning with her curled against his side was too much to bear. Weary, he tried to control his voice as best as he could, clenched his jaw, and simply said, "I'll start wearing a shirt."

Felicity was taken aback at the strain audible in his voice. She didn't feel elated at having won her little challenge. Rather, she felt weirdly sad, because she realized in this moment that he would never act on this palpable sexual tension between the two of them. He respected her too much, he valued their friendship too much to change anything about their relationship. "Thank you," she whispered, her tone earnest and just slightly melancholic. They must both have realized that this was not just about a shirt.

She watched as he walked towards the glass case with a contemplative look on his face. He placed his bow down softly, almost caressing the weapon, which felt like it was an extension of himself. If he would only touch her once like he was touching his bow now, she was sure that would be enough to get her through many a lonely night.

If only she knew he was thinking about touching her in that moment because she, too, was like an extension of himself.

**Thank you for reading! Let me know if you'd like the same story with a smutty turn. I'd be up for writing an M-rated ending if there's demand**


	2. Chapter 2

_Finally had a bit of time to revise again, so this is a slightly changed version. Nothing big, just a few words here and there - but now I'm happy with it :)  
_

_RATED M - you've been warned. Don't read if you don't like this sort of thing._

_I've slightly rewritten the last couple of paragraphs from the previous chapter (more sizzle!), then it's all new from there.  
_

_I don't own anything_

**Chapter 2**

"Put your clothes back on," Oliver said, pausing after each word and pressing them through clenched teeth, his eyes locked with hers. He bent slightly down towards her and moved his face just a couple of inches closer to make his implicit threat more palpable. His poker face was slipping and he knew it. He had to get away from her now or he'd take her then and there, so help him god. On the desk, on the medical table, on the cot, on the stairs, against the wall, on the workout mat – he didn't care. He'd already played all variants through in his fantasies anyway.

Felicity, however, didn't back down. She discovered a new kind of stubbornness inside herself – one she hadn't known she possessed. Or maybe it was just something especially reserved for Oliver? She mimicked his movements and also leaned in a couple of inches more, until their noses were almost touching. She could feel his hot breath on her face. "Only if you do the same. No one walks around here without a shirt. Deal?" Luckily, her voice didn't betray her furiously beating heart, her sweaty palms or her fluttering stomach. "Fine!", he spat out. "Fine!", she replied in the same vexed tone.

They heard heavy footsteps, indicating that someone was coming down the stairs. Still, neither of them looked up; the pair just kept holding each other's gaze, as if their lives depended on it. The unwitting intruder cleared his throat and, since there still was no reaction from his two friends, asked innocently, "Is there some kind of new dress code down here? Shirtless Wednesday?"

Upon this question, both immediately turned their heads in his direction, looked at him pointedly and yelled "No!" in unison. His presence had broken the spell. At this point, John Diggle knew he should retreat. For the life of him he couldn't figure out what was going on – but he was not going to get caught in the middle of it. He was feeling rather sorry for Oliver, because if they were fighting over something, neither the CEO nor the vigilante in him would stand a chance against the blonde IT specialist. He'd put his money on Felicity any day of the week; that's why he swore to himself to never _ever_ end up in her bad graces. "Alright, alright," he raised his hands into the air to show he didn't have any intention to get involved. And then saw to it that he left as quickly as possible.

* * *

"Huh." Twenty minutes in a cab, five minutes walking inside and up the stairs to the apartment, ten minutes to sort through laundry and load the washing machine, another ten to run a bath and undress – and all Felicity Smoak could come up with was "huh." Sitting in the tub, soaking in heavenly warm water with loads of bubbles, she was still utterly and completely puzzled. What had just happened at the Foundry?

She had won her challenge – that much was clear. She had stood up to Oliver Queen and left the ring as victor. But why did he just keep staring at her? His eyes had been cloudy and unreadable. His breaths had come quickly, and she was convinced it wasn't from his training. She remembered clearly how goose pimples had started to spread across her forearms under his intense gaze, the heat pooling in her core. How long had this been going on? Was it mere seconds or several minutes? And, the million dollar question was: What would've happened if Digg hadn't come in?

Unable to help thinking about possible different endings to this 'episode' at the lair, she half regretted taking a hot, sensual bath when a cold shower would've been more in order. She ran her hands over her soft, wet skin and couldn't help moans escaping her lips now and then. She doubted that she'd be able to fall asleep soon, with that much adrenaline running through her body – and that many 'what ifs' to contemplate. So Felicity took her time in the bathroom, enjoying one of these rare hours she truly had to herself. She shaved, plucked her eyebrows, put on lotion, brushed her teeth, combed her wet hair for five minutes longer than necessary but finally ran out of things to do.

All this hadn't helped her get her mind off the events of the evening anyway. She just didn't understand Oliver! She probably knew him better than any other person, as she helped him tie together the different strands of his life, but she didn't _understand_ him. He was just so… frustrating sometimes, in all his glorious undecipherability. Uninvited flashes of him touching her penetrated her consciousness again and again, so she resolved to go to bed, give herself over to half an hour of intense fantasizing and, hopefully, fall asleep somewhere in the process.

Barefoot and wrapped in her fluffy bathrobe she finally made her way from the bathroom into the dark bedroom. She wasn't wearing her glasses – no good in a steamy bathroom– and thus she didn't see the green, leather-clad figure sitting on the chair next to her window, in the shadows. However, she did realize that it was colder than usual. Turning towards the window, she saw that it was open and that the curtains were gently moving in the night air, animating moonlight and shadows on the floor.

Then she saw him perched there, his hood over his head, his elbows propped up on his knees. He looked like he had been cradling his head in his hands when the object of his desire had entered the room. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. "Oliver?" What in god's name was he doing here? "Um… hi." There was no reply. Was she already so far gone that she was hallucinating about him showing up in her bedroom – uninvited, yet oh so welcome?

She just stood there, looking at him. He just sat there, looking at her. Did he just come here to finish the stare-off they had started at the Foundry? While she was musing about his motivation, he suddenly got up and closed the distance between them in a few quick strides, until he was standing just a couple of inches away from her. He wasn't wearing his mask and now that he was close, she immediately saw he was fighting an internal battle. Patience wasn't exactly Felicity's virtue but she resolved to try it anyway – wait until he was ready to say whatever he came here to say, and not fill the silence with her usual rambling. She had to literally bite her tongue, though.

He drew several deep breaths and she expected him to start speaking after each but it took him another few minutes of just gazing at her intensely, clenching and unclenching his fists, grinding his teeth, furrowing his brow, before he spoke.

"I should've kissed you."

"Yes, you should've."

As long as it took him to utter these words, as quick was she in her reply. The answer came naturally, of course. Relief washed over her. She hadn't been imagining things – he had felt it, too, this magnetic pull. It took a few moments for her words to sink in, apparently, because he still stood there like a statue, not moving a muscle. Then, however, things happened very quickly.

He closed the small gap still between them and, before she knew it, had lifted her up as if she were light as a feather, one hand under her ass, one wrapped tightly around her back, keeping her close. Instinctively, she locked her legs behind his back to stabilize herself. She was pretty proud of herself that no sound escaped her lips, neither a squeak nor a squeal to betray her surprise at his sudden approach. If that was his challenge, she was sure she was acing it. They never broke eye contact.

Oliver walked a few steps, until he had her backed up against the wall, which he used as leverage to hold her up. His hand had moved from her back to the side of her face, where he now caressed her skin and moved strands of her towel-dry hair behind her shoulder. Felicity's arms, which had been wrapped tightly around his neck, let go now. She knew he would be keeping her safely up in the air. After gently pushing the hood off his head, she marveled at how perfectly serene he looked in the moonlight. All those signs of turmoil and tension had left his body, as if he had found a source of inner peace in her touch.

Their mouths were only inches apart, they were consuming the same hot air in accelerated breaths, but neither of them moved in for a kiss. They had been building up to this moment for months now, and Felicity was surprised to find him shy in the face of this challenge. It certainly didn't fit into the image she had of him with other women (of course she had tortured herself thinking about it), fuelled by the knowledge that he was widely considered a playboy. She liked it, however, and it made her feel special. Impatience finally won over, and she whispered softly, "You should kiss me now. I mean, if you want to. This is not an order or anything, I just thought y….". Her rambling was thankfully ended by Oliver's soft, warm lips pressed onto hers, which left her whole body tingling and alert.

The kiss quickly deepened and, although still slow, was infused with months of suppressed passion. Half-surprised that the touch of his lips on hers didn't give them an electric shock, Felicity ran her hands over his flexed upper arms; they felt better even than she imagined in her daydreams. She wove her fingers through his short hair, softly scratching his skin with her fingernails and eliciting a moan from the depths of Oliver's chest, muffled by their kiss.

He mirrored her movements and ran his hand into her still slightly wet hair, keeping her head in place while his tongue explored her mouth. Eventually both of them ran out of breath and she softly bit into his lower lip, not able to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Oliver let his forehead rest against hers, his breathing quick and shallow.

Now that her mind was no longer preoccupied with processing the feel of his lips, she suddenly grew very aware of the fact that she wasn't wearing any underwear under her robe. Warmth had pooled in her core, which she realized now was pressing against the smooth leather of his pants, where it covered an already substantial erection. Oliver slightly shifted her weight in his arms and the friction drew a sudden gasp from her. Slowly, he began to kiss a trail from her mouth, over her jaw, to her neck, where he softly bit into her skin, while simultaneously starting to push her further into the wall with his hips. Her gasp hadn't escaped his attention, and he certainly wanted to hear many more of those in the coming hours. Days. Hell, years.

His hand untangled itself from her hair and moved to his side, where he found her bent knee. Inch by inch, his hand traveled to the underside of her upper thigh and further upwards. Felicity's head rolled back and was now leaned against the wall, which gave him the perfect angle to caress the hollow of her throat with his lips and teeth. Not encountering any fabric where he expected it, Oliver realized that only the fluffy bathrobe separated him from her breathtaking, naked body. His eyes grew wide in surprise and a sudden surge of need for her almost overwhelmed him.

After having dedicated a few more moments to caressing the delicious spot where her thigh transitioned into her shapely ass, Oliver stepped away from the wall, took a few steps to his left and gently sat the woman in his arms down on a chest of drawers, which had just the perfect height so he could continue kissing her without having to bend down. There were some soft thuds from things falling onto the carpet, but these didn't register with the two lovers. She was sitting there, with her legs spread, wet and ready for him. He stepped closer in-between her welcoming limbs. His hands still at the small of her back, he pulled her to the edge and closer to him in one swift move, which took her breath away. His mouth found hers again, his kisses getting hotter and more demanding now.

Felicity set about to get him out of his vigilante gear, but there was a certain level of fumbling involved as she couldn't concentrate on anything long enough to do it smoothly. There were a few hidden hooks and clasps, which he was happy to help her with. Once his naked torso was exposed to her roaming hands, she broke the kiss, moved her mouth over to his ear and whispered softly, "Promise me to never _ever_ wear a shirt again when we're alone."

His hands at both sides of her face, thumbs caressing her cheek bones, he chuckled and whispered back, "Only if you do the same. No one walks around here with a shirt." Felicity suppressed a laugh bubbling up from her chest. "Deal." She turned her attention back to his angular torso, kissing a trail from his jaw to a spot under his ear, which apparently drove him mad, to his prominent collar bone, while her hands ran over his back, exploring the defined muscles she encountered there and tracing their outline with soft fingertips, committing everything to memory.

The knot of her bathrobe's belt wasn't much an obstacle for Oliver, and he opened it with slow, deliberate movements. He held on to her collar and used this leverage to pull her in closely for one more passionate kiss before inching the fabric down over her shoulders. She shimmied out of the sleeves and the fabric fell around her. Roaming his hands over her back, he kissed her left shoulder and collar bone, marveling at the beauty of her alabaster skin in the moonlight. This sight would be burned into his brain for the rest of his life, he was sure of it. His hands sneaked to her front now via her waist, from where he slowly inched upwards until he cupped her breasts. Thumbs delicately caressed the soft underside first, then relocated to tease erect nipples. Lips soon joined hands.

It began to get cold in her bedroom, but she was quite sure that the shiver running up her spine couldn't be attributed to this fact. His body radiated heat, which she felt even more acutely with the night air surrounding them. The ministrations bestowed on her breasts had her head rolling back, rested against the wall, her back arching and her hands pulling his hair more and more forcefully.

When she couldn't take it any longer, she softly pushed him away – ignoring his protests – and started to work on opening his pants to liberate his erection. With a final 'thud', the leather fell to the floor seconds later and Felicity was free to run her hands up and down the silky skin of his impressive length. The feel of her touch made Oliver want to bury himself deeply into her that very second, but he forced himself to slow down. He knew (or rather guessed) what Felicity thought about his past with women. He couldn't bear it if she thought he was a selfish lover on top of all that. It was a new experience for him, this deep-seated urge to leave her wanting more. He simply _needed_ her to keep wanting him.

Pulling her forward until she was sitting at the very edge of the dresser, he held onto her knees and ground himself forcefully into her wet core, causing Felicity to whimper and look at him entreatingly. Her hands had moved to his firm ass, trying to pull him in even closer. But he had already resolved to drag this sweet torture out for as long as he could. Slowly, he started to run his hands down the insides of her thighs. When he reached her crotch, he softly ran both of his thumbs along her folds, getting a very good idea already of how aroused she was. After a couple of repetitions he turned his attention to her clit, which made her insides twitch and jerk violently. His thumbs put pressure in all the right places and she quickly lost control. By the time he slipped a finger inside her wetness, exploring her heat, she was moaning loudly.

Throwing one last glance at her beautiful face, her head rested against the wall, her eyes closed, her swollen lips slightly parted, her breaths coming quickly, her hands forcefully clutching the edge of the dresser, he knelt down between her legs and began to kiss his way up the inside of her thighs, inching closer to where he expected she would most want to feel his lips and tongue. He lifted one of her legs to rest on his shoulder to give him perfect access.

Having lost complete track of where his hands, mouth, tongue were at any given point, she just knew that she never ever felt this good in her life. It felt like her complete body heat was pooled between her legs now, everything was pulsating, every nerve ending responsive to his touch. Shortly after, his kisses and explorations had pushed her over the edge, the intensity of which surprised her. Apparently her college boyfriend wasn't as good as he always had proclaimed himself to be. For lack of comparative data, she had always believed their sex had been good. But this… this was a different thing altogether. She opened her eyes and saw him still kneeling between her legs, staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face, which was probably the sexiest thing she had ever seen.

He slowly got up and turned away from her, which had her puzzled for a second, until she realized that he was going to close the window, which gave her a chance to savor the view of his naked body in the moonlight for a few moments. Granted, it was a bit blurry without her glasses, but she knew his physique well enough to fill in the blanks. Her mind must've wandered off, as next thing she realized was that Oliver was sitting on the bed, holding out his hand to her, looking at her quizzically. She had to remind herself that she didn't have to daydream about him anymore, he was here, with her, now.

She tried to slide down from the dresser as gracefully as possible, which was quite the challenge considering how weak her knees where. Still, Felicity managed to walk over to where he was, probably looking a bit like a baby giraffe trying its first steps. He extended his hand further and she took it gratefully, not knowing when her legs would give out. Scooting further back so he was no longer sitting at the edge but completely on the bed, he pulled her down in his lap. Her hands weaved into his hair and her lips came crushing down on his.

The pressure of his hardness against her clit was too much for Felicity to bear and she pushed herself down on him, hard, without a moment's hesitation. His eyes widened with surprise. Feeling him pulsate within herself, she realized she never could've imagined this, not even in her wildest fantasies (and there were some pretty wild ones).

His left hand was roaming her back, playing with her hair and holding her so close that not even a sheet of paper would've fit between their bodies. His right hand was firmly placed on her ass, where it was helping to support her weight, whenever she lifted herself up and let herself crush down on him again, hard. Simultaneously, he also thrust his hips upwards, which resulted in the most delicious friction.

Within just a few moments both of them were too out of breath to keep kissing so they just savored the looks and sounds of pleasure the other revealed. Oliver's eyes were the first ones to fall shut as his head rolled back. Felicity loved the sight of him losing control, as he certainly didn't have many moments in his life where he could truly let go. It made her just a little bit proud that she was the one he chose to let in.

Finally, Felicity's movements involuntarily slowed down because her muscles began to protest; luckily, Oliver had regained some control at this point thanks to a rhythm that had grown more leisurely. His right hand wandered from her buttocks to join the other one at the small of her back, from where both of them slowly inched upwards to her shoulders, caressing her spine and shoulder blades along the way. He was in the perfect position now to pull her torso rearward, so she was leaning back and completely resting in his arms. Savouring the renewed access to her front, he showered the soft mounds of her breasts with kisses, teasing her nipples with his teeth. He just loved how she arched into him and whimpered.

Resolving that she couldn't take it anymore, Felicity shifted from her kneeling position in a way that her feet were propped against the mattress behind him, which relieved some of the strain on her legs. Trusting him to completely carry the full weight of her upper body, she held onto his flexed upper arms and, using all the strength she had left, pushed herself down on him harder and faster, adding a roll to her hips whenever he was completely buried inside of her, which didn't fail to elicit an animalistic groan from Oliver every single time.

His strength seemed to know no bounds; he moved his right hand from where it had rested against her back – entwined with some strands of her silken hair – and continued to hold her up with only the one remaining arm. With his now free hand he caressed her breasts before travelling over her taut stomach and further down. She already held a _very_ high opinion of his dexterity, but the adept use of his thumb on her clit had her in raptures again with just a few flicks and she felt the pressure building in her core anew. The changed angle and the twisting of her hips also had Oliver's breath come quicker and his moans louder. She knew he was close, but the violence of his orgasm just seconds later still had her surprised. His last push into her would leave her unable to sit at her desk tomorrow, she conjectured. Not that she was complaining. Certainly not.

Riding out the waves of their pleasure, he pulled her flush against him, his forehead resting against hers. They didn't move for what felt like an eternity and the occasional twitch still rippled through them. Her hand was placed against his chest, just above his still furiously beating heart. If it were up to her, they would never ever leave her bed again. Ever.

* * *

"Oliver, wake up!" kneeling beside him on the bed, Felicity kissed his neck, then moved her lips slowly down his spine to his lower back, where his body, sadly, disappeared under the covers. He only mumbled something indeterminable into the pillow. He didn't get much sleep and certainly didn't feel like waking up – whether it was because of the mind-blowing sex or him watching her sleep for a few hours after that, he didn't know. "Oliver, we have to get up! It's Thursday, we have to go to work!" However, he only burrowed his head further into the pillow. Felicity had started to softly scratch her fingernails over his back. "I'm not getting up!" he proclaimed and, in the same breath, begged her, "Mmmmh, please don't stop."

"Are you going to have a tantrum every morning I wake you up?" she hadn't even realized what she had said, but Oliver was suddenly wide awake, propped his head up on his left elbow and shifted his body to the side, so he could look at her. An ear-to-ear smile slowly spread across his face. "Does that mean you want me to stay over again?" Felicity blushed, "Uhm, I didn't say that. I do have a very comfortable couch that you're welcome to use whenever you want, like all my one-night-stands." Her ironic tone and the twinkle in her eye made him chuckle. He loved this – their banter. It felt so natural. He sneaked his arm around her waist and, with one quick move, had pulled her down again, so she was lying on her back. His arm was splayed across her mid-section and tucked around her waist; he slowly drew her closer, until she was finally snuggled into his side.

"But you do want me to sleep here again, because you liked that thing that I did with my tongue, didn't you," he stated confidently, proud that he had been able to elicit various signs of pleasure from her body during the night. "Mmmhhh, yes…", Felicity confirmed, distracted by his hand, which was now softly trailing from her collar bone, across her breast, down her side, over the round of her bottom, coming to a halt on her upper thigh. She added, as if it were an afterthought, "but I also liked that other thing that you did with your fingers….".

"Oooh, no. No no no," Felicity was suddenly hyper-aware of his growing erection and placed her hands against his chest, trying to push herself away from him. However, she was as successful as if she had tried to move a boulder. "Oliver, no! We have to get up now. We have to be at the office in half an hour! You have a finance meeting, which you had me postpone twice already by the way, so it has to happen today or we'll be in the new quarter!" With a very deep sigh, Oliver burrowed his head into the billow again and mumbled "Alright, alright," releasing her from his vice-like embrace. "You're right."

Felicity quickly got up. She had to get away from the hot naked man in her bed, otherwise there would be no telling what it might do to her dutiful resolve. She had taken a few steps, but stumbled over something – his green leather pants. "Uhm, Oliver….", her eyes grew as wide as saucers when she turned towards the bed, where he was sitting up now. "You came as the vigilante last night. It's broad daylight now, you can't leave like that, let alone go to the office." He, however, didn't seem to be too concerned. "No finance meeting then, I guess," an impish grin on his face. "I'd much rather spend the day in your bed anyway."

"Well, it's almost weekend," she flashed him a sexy smile, "so I guess we already have plans for Saturday. But today, you, Mister CEO, need a suit. I'm gonna text Diggle. He can pick one up at the mansion and bring it here." Oliver groaned, "I'm not sure I can face him. I should prepare for the biggest 'I told you so' I have ever gotten from _anyone_. He knew I was in love with you long before I did. He dropped hints all the time but of course I told him he was imagining things…. This is going to be so embarrassing." He got up from the bed with a sigh. This time, he didn't realize what he had just said, but Felicity didn't call him out on it. Not just yet. Still, her heart leapt at hearing those words.

"Don't be ridiculous, he's our friend, he'll be cool about it," Felicity replied, all the while typing a message to said friend. "Why don't you hop in the shower and then you won't have to face him just yet." He smiled one of his rare genuine smiles, and leaned in for a kiss. "Good morning, by the way." After they broke the kiss, her eyes traveled down his body. "Better make your shower a cold one."

The End

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